Showing posts from April, 2011

Bluebonnets and Homemade Dresses

So I've been noticing all these cute patchwork dresses and skirts on etsy . I thought, "I bet I could do that...or at least something similar." I looked at patterns at Hobby Lobby = $13. If I'm going to spend $13, I could just buy a dress (not a Corrina Couture dress, but still). Plus, we don't need dresses. We have two very active and generous grandmothers. My girls have more dresses than they can wear. I decided to scratch that project. One pulling-my-hair-out afternoon, I dialed my good friend hoping for a few moments of adult convo. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I'm on my way to JoAnn's [as in JoAnn's Fabric]. I'm going to buy ribbon. I've started making hair bows as a creative outlet." I felt the envy flood my entire being. I remembered making time for creative outlets...back in the day. If she could do it, SO COULD I!! After we hung up the phone, I abandoned the dishes in the kitchen. I pulled out my fab

Glee, Finn, & The Big Questions

I wrote this note for facebook last semester after watching the "Grilled Cheese-us" epidsode of Glee. They re-ran the episode this week, so I'm posting the review here as well: Sweet Finn—who lost his Daddy when he was a baby, who’s the masculine High School star football player, who stands loyal as boyfriend to the unpopular girl regardless of what others think, who sings & dances like a rock star--Finn, you just root for him, don’t you? While he’s got a lot of talent going for him, it’s obvious that Finn still has a lot to learn (last season his girlfriend convinced him that he got her pregnant without sex). So we say “Sweet Finn” while our heads tilt to the side ever so slightly, maybe with a slight pucker and head-bob. This week is another case in point as he beseeches his grilled-cheese sandwich with prayers for help in football, among other things--ahem. Sweet Finn (head tilt and shake), down on his knees, hands folded and calls his sandwich “Grilled Cheese-us

Prepare Your Heart to Be Warmed: My Daughter's Wish

I love age 5. My daughter is a butterfly-chaser, wild-flower-bouquet-giver, Mommy's-high-heel-wearer. I wish I could push a pause button on age 5. You know what else I love about age 5? She tells me EVERYTHING that she's thinking. Like her Daddy says, sometimes we think our ears might start to bleed from so much listening, but really, we love it. Case in point, one crisp fall day in November during story time, she began to give commentary of her thoughts at every turn of the page. The story was about Jesus loving little children, and in one illustration, He was bent down on one knee handing a butterfly to a little tot-sized girl with pigtails. Her commentary went something like this: "Look how sweet. Jesus is giving her a butterfly. I bet He knew that she likes butterflies, because He knows everything, and that's why He gave it to her. And it's yellow. Maybe she likes yellow. [pause][sigh of longing] I wish I could have a butterfly. I always chase them, but I&